


A Bare Tree for the Mountain

by from



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Author's Favorite, Canon Character of Color, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/from/pseuds/from
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tezuka and Yukimura have a history and they're not done writing it yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bare Tree for the Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> It's probably well-established that in canon the characters don't sound, act, or look like junior high students. Even though it goes against all my instincts, in this fic they don't either. Written in 2006 and edited recently for posting.

Being seeded gave Seigaku an automatic place in the third round of the Tokyo Prefecturals and meant the team could schedule to meet later in the morning. When Tezuka arrived at the competition grounds over half an hour early, however, Inui was already deep into his notebook, collecting data from possible opponents. They greeted each other, Inui studying Tezuka before scribbling two sets of numbers in the margins and returning to the game.

The wildly uneven Singles 2 match was close to being over and didn’t hold the attention of the restless crowd. Tezuka concentrated on chances the players missed on court and managed to cut out the noise from the stands. The match ended with the score six games to one and the Oginodai team was through to the next round.

There was always a moment’s lull after competing schools bowed to each other on the court and moved on. Inui used it an opportunity to ask for today’s registration sheet and Tezuka felt compelled to produce it from a pocket in his tennis bag. It wasn’t his policy to give into Inui’s curiosity, but Inui was standing in front of Tezuka in the capacity of Seigaku’s training manager, however impermanent the position might be.

‘Did you hear about Rikkaidai's Yukimura Seiichi? He can’t play tennis anymore.’

A murmur rose in the crowd, growing more and more insistent like a flitting bee against a glass window. Tezuka wasn’t the only one who searched for the speaker in the bleachers. Inui’s hand was uncharacteristically late in reaching for the sheet.

‘I heard from a friend of mine Yukimura-san only attended a few district matches and didn’t even play,’ someone else said. ‘He’s been sick since winter and he’s not getting any better. It’s likely he’s not at the Prefecturals in Kanagawa right now.’

‘Is he _dying_?’

Yukimura couldn’t be dying, Tezuka thought, not without Tezuka hearing from Yukimura himself instead of the junior high tennis circuit.

‘I heard he was paralyzed because of some disease he contracted in Gion,’ a whisper came from the chair umpire. A passing coach and his student looked scandalized but said nothing.

‘Yukimura Seiichi’s tennis career is over? Does that mean Tezuka Kuni—Excuse me, Tezuka-san. I didn’t see you there.’

Tezuka stared at the Oginodai player. ‘I’m not interested in speculation,’ he said and turned away.

Inui was preoccupied with a new entry in his book, Yukimura’s name written down at the top of the page in the right kanji. Tezuka took the team’s registration sheet and hoisted his bag onto his good shoulder.

‘Tezuka, did you know about this?’ Inui asked, catching up with Tezuka on his way out.

Tezuka shook his head and turned right down the walk that bordered the high green fencing, heading for the main entrance. He would’ve thought he’d feel like a fool, but he couldn’t say how he was feeling exactly.

If the gossip was somehow based on truth, Sanada had managed to keep Yukimura’s condition out of the rumor mill for months and Tezuka felt thankful for it, no matter how much his own ignorance hurt. His friend had looked too thin and pale in March, but it was Tezuka who hadn’t been sharp enough to wonder and ask. Yukimura had never lied.

‘They'll win Kanagawa anyway,’ a younger boy walking in front of Tezuka said to a boy from another school. ‘They still have those other two demons, Sanada and Yanagi, and their new second-year spawn.’

‘It’s not as if they ever need to play Singles 1,’ came the reply as Tezuka overtook them on the path.

Tezuka recognized the boys’ St. Rudolph uniform and saw Fuji Yuuta up ahead in his Seigaku blues and whites being friendly with his younger brother. ‘If they win the Kantou title this year, it’ll be for the sixteenth consecutive time, Mizuki-san. Maybe they’ve lost their best player, but who can beat that kind of record?’

Tezuka wove around the small crowd under the pretext of needing the water fountain, had a quick fill, and cut across the lawn.

By the time Tezuka and Inui joined the others by the registration area, the ‘news’ had spread beyond the inner courts. ‘Your body becomes more and more paralyzed until your heart finally stops working _nyaaa_ ,’ he heard Kikumaru say to Kawamura. ‘How scary is that?’

‘Good morning, Tezuka. Did you hear the news from Rikkaidai about Yukimura Seiichi?’

‘Oishi, I don’t think the story came directly from Rikkaidai,’ Fuji said. He greeted Tezuka and wondered aloud about where Echizen was.

‘What’s the disease called again, Fuji-senpai?’

‘Someone,’ Ryuzaki-sensei barked, ‘please find out why Echizen isn’t here.’

Although inexcusable, Echizen’s lateness drew the team’s focus back onto its own concerns. After their eligibility was ensured, Tezuka decided Echizen could atone for the team’s falsified registration documents by doing extra daily laps for a few weeks.

On the way to the courts, he heard Fuji’s gentle laugh and felt for the phone in his jersey pocket. He thought of calling Yukimura but turned the device off instead. He was there to play tennis and, as captain, lead his team into the semifinals. Everything else must wait.

 

#

 

Tezuka went looking for Oishi during lunch period on Monday but could not find him in class or down at the cafeteria. He tried Fuji’s classroom to see if Oishi was eating lunch with Kikumaru, and other senior classrooms next, before ending his search at the library. Although he did need Oishi’s input about the unruly Sports Day committee, he was in no mood to walk around the school for the rest of lunch.

He had waited until Sunday to call Yukimura’s house. His friend had been resting and it had been his mother who’d informed Tezuka that the illness was not what everyone had thought it to be at first, though several similar symptoms – including the paralysis Tezuka had dreaded to hear confirmed – had manifested. He’d wanted to ask for her permission to see her son before she’d told him about the difficulties in controlling the sudden influx of inquiries and visitors.

There hadn’t been much else to do other than listen to Yukimura’s mother and hang his hope across the line. Late at night, he’d received a phone call from Yukimura himself, and Tezuka had heard his own voice as if it had been a stranger’s.

Back at school, Tezuka was full of self-reproach about the emotions he hadn’t been able to control and troubled by how Yukimura had been comforting him instead of the other way around.

Upon returning to his own classroom, he delved into a long chemistry problem set and only paused when Oishi walked up to his desk. ‘Tezuka, I was told you came by to see me.’

‘I did.’

‘I was in the computer lab. Fuji found some information about Guillain-Barré – that’s the disease Rikkai’s Yukimura has – and we were reading up on it.’

‘I see,’ he said. Few knew how pronounce the name of the disease, let alone how to spell it, but Tezuka knew someone on his team would figure it out in very little time. That it was Fuji didn’t surprise him. Fuji had studied both English and French since elementary school.

Oishi opened the folder in his hand and placed a few pages on Tezuka’s desk, on top of his problem set. ‘I printed out some of the information, if you’d like to take a look.’

He glanced over the printouts out of politeness. He knew Oishi meant well and was just more passionate than most when it came to illness and injuries, but he had no intention of reading them. He returned the pages to Oishi with a nod.

His friend frowned. ‘Is there something wrong, Tezuka?’

‘Lunch period is almost over, Oishi, and there is still some student council business I want to discuss with you,’ he said, taking out the Sports Day proposals. ‘I need your advice.’

Oishi put his folder away, looking sheepish. ‘How can I help?’

 

#

 

Yukimura was sleeping when Tezuka arrived. He looked worn, but nowhere near as sickly as some accounts were making him out to be. Tezuka waited in the deep armchair by the window, studying his notes for a history test. Yukimura didn’t wake in time, however, and Tezuka had math and chemistry homework to go through, not to mention proposals from the Sports Day committee that were already beginning to pile up.

He came back a few days later and since Yukimura was again asleep, Tezuka left to find some flowers to fill the vase by the bed. He supposed the air-conditioning hadn’t been kind to the roses that had been there before. When he returned to the room, the homecare nurse was fussing over Yukimura’s blankets though none of it seemed to matter to the patient, who was now awake and sitting up.

Tezuka busied himself with the flowers, though he knew nothing about arrangements. When he looked up, Yukimura was smiling at him slightly. He gave his friend a nod in return.

‘Thank you,’ Yukimura said to no one in particular. He was still staring out into the garden a long time after the nurse had stepped out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her.

‘You didn't need one more reason not to smile,’ Yukimura finally said, and Tezuka felt relieved because he hadn’t come to stare and plead silently and everything else he’d been doing for the past twenty minutes.

‘You smile enough for both of us,’ Tezuka replied.

‘Many people would find it terrifying that you think so.’

Tezuka stepped closer, wanting to be done with all he needed to say so he could just listen to more of Yukimura making light remarks he didn’t completely understand. ‘The last time we saw each other, you never once stood up from the bench,’ he said. ‘I should have known.’

Yukimura shook his head. ‘You would have if my family hadn't played along.’

It would seem Tezuka hadn’t had a chance, but he knew Yukimura, he knew how Yukimura behaved, how he held himself, how he would move closer when they stopped talking about tennis. Tezuka should have noticed.

‘How long will it take for you to heal?’

‘The immunoglobulin therapy is helping,’ Yukimura said. ‘I could be healthy enough in time for Nationals.’

 _For our match_ , Yukimura didn’t say, but that Tezuka did understand.

 

#

 

On Tezuka’s third visit, Yukimura felt strong enough to sit outdoors for a while.

‘Please don't mind the garden,’ Yukimura said after they had closed the wooden gate behind them. ‘It’s suffering from neglect. No one else knows it like my father and I do, but he’s never here these days and I’m often too tired to tend to it.’

‘It would be fine with some rain.’

‘And a gardener. Some of the branches need to be trimmed and too many buds were left to flower in the spring. I have to convince my family to hire a professional when I go back to the hospital.’

Tezuka turned at that, one hand reaching out before he wrestled his control back.

‘Yes,’ Yukimura smiled, ‘I’ll be back in Kanai sometime next week.’

‘I'm going fishing next Saturday. I'll bring you something fresh,’ Tezuka said even though it made no sense.

‘Fresh fish.’

‘Cooked fresh fish,’ Tezuka amended.

‘More to look forward to then,’ Yukimura said, eyes looking up into the sky. ‘Although it would taste even better if I could go with you again.’

 

 _‘You are very good at fishing for sweetfish.’_

 _Tezuka's father laughed from the large boulder where he sat separating his fishing gear from the rest. ‘He knows how to draw them in,’ he told Yukimura._

 _Yukimura folded his legs. ‘It’s just like your tennis,’ he said to Tezuka after a while._

 _‘And that's how he'll get the girls, too, when he's old enough.’ His father laughed again, standing up to leave for his favored part of the river. A few people nearby laughed along._

 _Tezuka waited until the noise had died down before saying, ‘Grandfather taught me how to lure sweetfish.’_

 _They glanced over and saw the old man glaring sternly at his father from across the water._

 _It was Yukimura who smiled first. ‘Of course.’_

 

‘I’ll be after sweetfish, but I thought perhaps your family would like some trout. My father is sure to catch a few.’

Yukimura glanced over his shoulder. ‘Whatever pleases you.’

Tezuka thought that was what he, and not Yukimura, was supposed to say.

 

#

 

Yukimura was again the subject of conversation on Thursday morning. Although he’d known to expect it since the Kantou regional tournament was starting in a couple of weeks, Tezuka still didn’t want to be there when it happened. The regulars were in the middle of circuit training, however, and unlike Echizen, Tezuka wasn’t done. He couldn’t even excuse himself to talk to the Sports Day committee waiting for him by the clubhouse.

‘We might have a chance to win the title if we do our best,’ Kawamura said. ‘Rikkai is going to play Kantou without Yukimura-san.’

‘Can you imagine not being able to play tennis again, Fujiko?’ Tezuka heard Kikumaru ask. The acrobat was doing handstands at the end of his shuttles back and forth across the court. ‘That Guillain-Barré Syndrome sounds so horrible,’ he said, hoisting himself into running position.

Fuji smiled. ‘He's not completely paralyzed yet.’

On the other side of the net from his doubles partner and Fuji, Oishi looked more than a little disturbed. There weren’t many who understood Fuji’s outlook on life. ‘I'm sure they’re trying all they can to help Yukimura,’ he said. ‘No one will let a talent like him disappear.’

‘He won't return to normal, though, Oishi-senpai,’ Momoshiro cut in. Tezuka began to wonder how soon Inui could implement an increase in the intensity of their regiments. The drills had clearly ceased to be challenging. ‘Didn't the website say Guillain-Barré could make you weak forever? Or it can come back just like that.’

‘You're too loud for someone who’s supposed to be exercising,’ Kaidoh said.

‘Shut up, Viper,’ Momoshiro retorted. ‘You don't even know what we're talking about.’

Kaidoh’s ability to scowl at Momoshiro without having to pause mid-pushup impressed Tezuka. ‘Do _you_ know what you're talking about?’ The second-year hissed. ‘No one is stupid enough to trust everything they read on the internet.’

No answer came from Momoshiro, who had stopped doing drills. Either he was avoiding the challenge or he wanted something to fire back with. Tezuka assumed it was the latter and put the second-years’ training schedule as first up for reevaluation.

‘Well, even if they have to worry about their captain, the team is still very strong,’ Oishi said, letting Inui pass by the tramlines.

‘Hey, Inui-senpai,’ Momoshiro hollered, ‘you looked up what’s wrong with Rikkai’s Yukimura-buchou at the library, right? Didn’t the books confirm what Fuji-senpai found – some patients don’t regain their strength and the paralysis can even come back?’

Inui settled down next to Tezuka, setting his pen and book aside. ‘Yes. It’s estimated 30% of Guillain-Barré patients still suffer residual weakness after 3 years and there are some who remain wheelchair-bound for the rest of their lives.’ He pushed his glasses up before continuing, ‘After the onset of symptoms, the progress of the illness is very rapid. In three weeks, 90% of patients are at their weakest. Judging by the date of his collapse, Yukimura appears to be in recovery, which make take months or years. And there is always the possibility of a relapse.’

Many times over during Inui’s explanation, Tezuka had bit down the urge to say, ‘It's not Guillain-Barré.’

‘What do you think, Tezuka?’

His watch told him it was almost five past eight. There were ten minutes of practice left and soon, he could lose himself in schoolwork, take a break from these familiar voices often crowding his head. ‘I think it’s time all your circuit training regiments are reassessed. They’re not pushing you anymore,’ he said, causing several people to wince.

‘What do you think of Rikkai's chances of defending the title without their number one player?’ Fuji rephrased.

It was Inui who replied, however. ‘Without Yukimura’s contribution as a singles player and the team's captain, the probability of Rikkai winning this year's Kantou tournament has decreased by 19%.’

‘Tezuka, are you—’

‘Enough of this idle chatter,’ Tezuka said, standing up. ‘Yukimura's health doesn't concern any of you. We will go to Nationals on our own merit.’ He heard murmurs of assent instead of a clear and loud reply. ‘Everyone,’ he bellowed, ‘ten laps around the courts before you leave.’

‘But, Buchou, we have to get to class in fifteen minutes.’

‘Then don't waste any more time, idiot,’ Kaidoh muttered, getting to his feet with an irate Momoshiro rushing after him to be the first out of the gate.

 

#

 

On Monday, the first day of summer vacation, Tezuka took the train out to Kanai General after rushing home from tennis practice. He brought a bento packed with char-grilled sweetfish on a bed of rice, stalks of sharp green and crimson water pepper neatly arranged on top. Instead of using the cloth his mother had prepared, he’d wrapped the lunchbox in one of his own scarves to thwart an inspection at the nurse’s station.

Yukimura laughed when the blue scarf fell away to reveal the box. He labored to take himself out of bed and asked Tezuka to please help him with his robe. He said he wanted to eat while watching the sun go down from the rooftop terrace, but Tezuka knew it was also because he didn't want anyone to interrupt his meal. Hospitalization and simple pleasures did not mix.

Tezuka had tea from a paper cup while Yukimura ate in silence, his approval of the taste communicated through a smile.

‘Get better and I'll take you fishing. We can grill our food right by the water.’

‘Training up in the mountains or on the coast would be the fastest way to get my strength back.’

‘It's a plan, then.’

‘It's a plan,’ Yukimura said. The chopsticks hovered over the box for the last time before he set them down. There was little change in his appetite. Tezuka felt ill at the thought of Yukimura’s body slowly wasting away.

Tezuka wound the scarf around Yukimura’s pale neck, holding his hair back. In the past, it had been a vivid black, catching sunlight as Yukimura leapt from the baseline to the net and back, but today it was dull, and worse against the blue cotton. ‘You have to stay warm,’ Tezuka said, withdrawing.

‘I have made up my mind. I am going through with the surgery.’

‘I see.’ Tezuka put his hands in his pockets.

‘My family and I have discussed it to our satisfaction with the new doctors. It's now my best option, if I want to fully recover,’ Yukimura said, resting his crossed arms over his knees. ‘And Sanada has promised me the Kantou title.’

‘From me you'll have to make do with the scarf,’ Tezuka said.

Yukimura glanced down, his expression wry. ‘I thought this year would be our year to play each other. Who would’ve thought the problem wouldn’t be your injury?’

 

 _An unseasonable heat-wave struck across most of Honshu in early May. The tennis team breathed a collective sigh of relief when Yamato-buchou announced there would be no practice on Saturday. On Friday, Tezuka accepted an invitation to Yukimura’s house and left early the next morning. He liked the gardens there, especially in the sort of weather they were having, and he hadn’t seen his friend in a long time. The Rikkaidai tennis team allowed freshmen to become regulars and Yukimura’s schedule had filled up as soon as he’d won a spot for himself. There were others almost as good as they were, Yukimura had told him at the start of the year._

 _Contrary to his mother’s expectation, Tezuka didn’t feel nervous on the commuter train. He was twelve, but he looked sixteen. Yukimura met him at the station, also alone. Although his friend had told him about a growing closeness with two other freshman regulars on the team, Tezuka had expected to spend his time just with Yukimura. It was how they were._

 _‘You don't belong at such a school,’ Yukimura said after Tezuka told him about tennis try-outs at Seigaku. They were sitting at the edge of the verandah, an abundance of food and cold drink between them, and Tezuka hadn’t been able to help himself. ‘What a disgraceful club. Don’t they know your tennis?’ Tezuka liked the darkness of Yukimura’s eyes. He always needed to expend more energy to glare than his friend did._

 _Through the trees, the sun finally reached them, spreading along the bed of grass beside the pond and patches of the stone path winding away from view. ‘Seigaku will change,’ he replied._

 _‘You’ve decided to stay on.’_

 _‘Yes.’ Tezuka picked up a bean paste confection with his wooden pick. It tasted heavier than it had looked, but that suited his hungry stomach._

 _The shafts of light wavered as the bamboo did in the breeze. Yukimura looked at them as if he had never and yet always been here before. ‘Why?’ he asked after a while. ‘Is there a girl who has caught your eye?’_

 _Tezuka raised an eyebrow. ‘The only female I know is Ryuzaki-sensei. Not my type,’ he said. Then he smiled. ‘A formidable tennis player, though. Tries her best.’_

 _‘She has a good reputation as a coach.’ Yukimura’s voice still had an edge to it, but he was smiling, too. ‘Of course, that will not stop Rikkai from beating Seigaku.’_

 _‘Hn.’_

 _‘And you will not be cross with me.’_

 _‘Winners always bear the burden,’ Tezuka said and drank the tea, its bitterness mellowing in his mouth. If it sounded like something his grandfather would’ve said, that was probably because his grandfather had said it. ‘The sweets are very good.’_

 _Yukimura nodded. ‘Yes, but I'm not giving you more. You'll spoil your appetite otherwise and my mother is making grilled eel on rice in tea for lunch.’_

 _Tezuka went for the last jelly bean cake left on the serving plate, but he wasn’t swift enough. ‘I will take that one—’_

 _‘Too late,’ his host said cheerfully._

 _‘–then.’ All he saw was the flash of a cherry leaf disappearing into Yukimura’s mouth, its teeth-like edge an anomaly on his lips._

 _Tezuka retracted his arm at an awkward angle. His right hand cushioned the elbow in reflex. He exhaled and tried to relax, feeling Yukimura’s eyes on him._

 _‘Does it hurt all the time?’_

 _He shook his head._

 _‘Get better and we'll meet at the Newcomers' Tournament,’ Yukimura said, a familiar soft smile appearing on his face. Spun so easily out of nothing, Tezuka thought and looked down at the tea inside his cup. ‘It will be fun to instill some fear in the junior high circuit.’_

 

Tezuka glanced at the wilted water pepper leaves and the fish Yukimura had torn into with patience. A cat’s meal. It looked wrong. ‘We’ll play our match someday. The moment will come.’

Yukimura leaned into him, saying nothing in return.

Tezuka checked his watch to make sure he had enough time to catch a train home for dinner. ‘Hyoutei won the consolation matches and drew Seigaku,’ he said, moving on. ‘Atobe Keigo told a reporter from _Monthly Tennis_ he’s prepared to crush me next week.’

‘Is that so?’

Tezuka nodded.

They sat in silence, the shadow of the rooftop’s fence falling across their laps. Tezuka watched the tops of buildings change color, alignments shifting over the constant noise of cars and the crosswalk signal song.

An exasperated adult broke their peace and time alone, ordering them inside and the patient to return to his room. Yukimura merely nodded, but Tezuka drew himself up and apologized, his calm voice neutralizing the disturbance.

‘Sanada will be there,’ Yukimura said when the door closed behind the man, as if the earlier conversation had not fallen into a lull. ‘Of course, he isn’t me.’

‘Of course,’ Tezuka replied. His friend did not stir when he moved to clear the bench. He sealed the bento box and sat down as he had before.

 

#

 

Each time he was taunted by failure at the rehabilitation clinic, Tezuka remembered the taste of sugar in his mouth, the shift of light in a world where tennis was and wasn’t everything. The days before his return to Tokyo were a measure of how far he was from the game, the court, and the team. Every step forward meant he was closer to the tennis he wanted to grow old playing with the people who mattered most. If Yukimura was not there to meet him when he returned, Tezuka would wait. Yukimura, he knew, had never minded waiting for him.


End file.
